


days go by (and still i think of you)

by halestrom



Series: The Run [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU - Werewolves are known, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Derek POV, M/M, Mating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halestrom/pseuds/halestrom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's takes two weeks for Derek to contact Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	days go by (and still i think of you)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that this took so long, this is an ongoing fic so don't worry about me not updating it, I do have an endgame in mind! I am not the quickest writer in the world, but I'll do better to try and get some more out on a regular basis. These are going to be snapshots mostly, with some longer fics here and there. 
> 
> This once again has no beta, so please excuse any mistakes.

It had been two weeks since the run and Derek still hadn’t worked up the courage to send a message to Stiles. Now that the heat of the moment was over, he found himself nervous, apprehensive for the whole thing. He wasn’t nervous about the decision they had made, to wait until they were both ready, but he was nervous about what Stiles would think of him. They had only met briefly, lust brought on by the smells of the environment and the way they looked to each other. 

And he wasn’t blind to how he looked; he knew what he looked like to the greater public, the brooding James Dean look, the strong brows, the natural downturn on his lips, the dark clothing and the permanently judging look. It didn’t help that his personality was apparently cutting at best of times, according to his sisters at least. All in all, he felt nervous about a conversation with the freckled kid who smiled like the sun was shining and the world was a happy place. He didn’t want to be the person who brought Stiles down, but the smell of _right_ had been so overwhelming that he found himself hard pressed to do anything but just brood from afar. 

He had allowed himself to partake in a healthy round of Facebook stalking; the kind that would have made Laura and Cora shed a tear in pride -- had either of them known. He knew it had been a good decision to ignore the friend requests from most of his family. It meant he was free to do what he wanted without any trouble, and if he occasionally had to change his password when one of them tried to break in, well it was no skin off his back. 

A chime to his left brought him out of his self-imposed wallowing and he turned his head from where he had been laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, to where his phone was sitting on the coffee table. He groaned as he stretched out to try and grab his, body tired from the week of freshman midterm papers he had been grading, as well as dealing with his own midterms. A quick glance at the message had him invited out to some bar near his apartment and he wanted to stay in and wallow some more, but the phone chimed again, an _or else_ following the previous text. He wasn’t going to contest Erica on this, he had done it once and would rather not talk about it. At all. 

Rolling himself up of off the couch, he glanced towards his computer screen where the picture of Stiles was pulled up, wide eyed and laughing, his arm strung around a man that Derek had discovered was Scott, his ‘bro-ho from another mo’. Whatever that meant. Jealously wasn’t something he had felt often, but the easy touching and camaraderie that he had seen made him jealous that it wasn’t him that Stiles was smiling at, that he wasn’t the one who was pressed close to Stiles. It was dark territory he did his best to avoid and right then, he felt like he was charging into it without an anchor. 

His phone chimed again, letting him know that Erica would be there in five minute and that he better be ready. With one more glance at the computer, he shut down the screen and went to go and change into something more appropriate. He glanced down at his outfit and shrugged his shoulders, heading outside to wait for her by the door.

Five hours later he was stumbling back into his apartment, the world unfocused and his legs not moving the _right way_. He braced one hand against the wall as he fumbled for his key, finally managing to get it before it all but collapsed into his apartment. He braced himself against the wall as he shut the door, a hand swiping at the wall to lock the door.

He stepped away from it, hands working with the front of his shirt, trying to get the buttons undone, managing to get at least one of them done before he gave up and pulled it over his head, faintly hearing a ping on the floor as the buttons were torn off. He went to his jeans then, his body over heating with his natural body heat and the alcohol that was running through him. He didn’t know why he let Erica talk him into shots, every time they were out it happened, and that woman could drink anyone under the table. A small part of his mind called party foul, sure that she was just doing shots of sprite or something that was decidedly non-alcoholic. 

Finally free of his clothing, he collapsed onto his couch, legs moving to kick the extra pillows off. Finally settled, he stretched out, legs pressing against one arm, his head resting against the opposite, eyes half closed as his allowed his mind to wander and shut down. When he was gone like this, it was one of the few times it felt silent in his world, everything was muted. He couldn’t hear the arguments on the fifth floor, or the second floor tenants kinky sex choices. It was peaceful and he wished he could always have this silence around him, surrounding him completely. It was amazing; he never wanted it to stop. He had always been jealous of Laura and Cora for being able to tune their hearing out as easily as they did; it was a skill he wished he possessed. 

He wondered what Stiles was like, if he was loud or quiet, he hoped he was quiet, he didn’t know if he could handle someone who rambled on completely. He had students who did that, and it left him with a migraine more than anything else, the never-ending flow of adverbs and prepositions. It annoyed him to no end, and he was glad he wasn’t going into teaching like he had originally planned. A lifetime of over opinionated students seemed like the first level of hell. 

The thought of Stiles had him rolling up slowly, his hands blindly reaching out for where his computer was still sitting from earlier. Distantly he was aware of papers dropping onto the ground, but it was secondary to the image of Stiles being pulled up on the screen. He reached out his hand, fingers pressing against the screen, feeling angry when it felt cold to the touch instead of warm. He poked it again and made a face, he missed the way the other man smelled. 

He also missed… His thoughts trailed off, what else did he know about Stiles? He knew he was in college and he knew he smelled like freshly washed cotton and grass in the spring, but _that was it_. That wouldn’t do, not at all. Clicking around, he managed to get to the messaging option and entered Stiles’s name into the box and began to type out the message.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

It was a few hours later, although it felt like seconds, when he began the slow process of waking up. The noises filtered in first, the sudden assault on his senses causing his head to pound even harder than the hangover had caused. The light came second, a pinprick, followed by another assault, the room slowly coming into focus. The smells came last, and he wished they hadn’t as the smell of alcohol that had been splashed onto his clothes came in causing his stomach to roll. He squeezed his eyes shut again, breathing deeply through his mouth, trying to calm himself didn’t.

It didn’t work and the next inhale had him making a beeline to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later he was showered and dressed, healing making quick work of his momentary hangover, hallelujah. He dropped back down onto the couch, fingers moving to put in the earplugs he used when he couldn’t get rid of the sensory overload. He pressed his fingers into his eyes long enough for starbursts to form before blinking and opening them, booting his computer up from sleep mode. His memory of the previous night was hazy at best, he could remember being at the bar, and the drinks, the dancing, and then that was where it got blurry. 

He rubbed a hand over his face again, eyes opening to look at his Facebook homepage, he made a face and made a move to click out of it before he noticed the little red one in the top bar. That was unusual. No one talked to him on Facebook, he never used it, and he refused to use it. His friends knew he didn’t use it. With trepidation he clicked the little one and the messages were brought up.

> _Derek,_
> 
> _I’m glad to hear from you as well, although I’m surprised by it really. I thought you’d forgotten or something. I mean I know I could have sent something first but I’m a bit of a chicken and new to this whole relationship thing, and I doubt you are because look at you right. Even my Dad said you were hot as sin and he’s pretty straight. But no need to worry, I now know you haven’t forgotten, so hi, how are you. Are you okay or something? I mean I’m glad you liked the way I smelled but that was a kinda intense message for the first time._
> 
> _Although I did like ‘drops of chocolate on your face’, I’ve never heard those described before. And with the whipped cream metaphor? Not the worst thing to wake up to in the world._
> 
> _\- Stiles_

Derek felt confused and he scrolled up, wondering what the hell Stiles had been talking about. He felt his face turn bright red as he read over the message he had apparently sent last night. He felt mortification begin to make it’s way through his body as he read the explicit message he had sent, and a deep burning shame as he got to the end. He knew he had been out of it, but he hadn’t realized he was that out of it.

His hands were shaking as he pulled up the messenger again, wanting to try and set this straight.

> _Stiles,_
> 
> _I am so sorry, I don’t know what possessed me to send that. I was out last night and I think I drank more than I realized because I don’t even remember sending that or anything, I swear I usually am not like that, I don’t know what came over me._
> 
> _Can you forgive me?_
> 
> _\- Derek_

Derek finished typing and hit enter before he could stop himself. He read over the message again and leaned forward, fingers landing on home row once more, beginning to type.

> _Also hello._
> 
> _Also, I could never forget about you._
> 
> _Also, I’m sorry it took so long._
> 
> _I say also a lot, sorry_

He forced himself to pull his hands away from the computer that time, curling his hands into his fist as he relaxed back against the couch, worried about what else he might say if he continued to allow himself to type. He watched the window for a few seconds before leaning forward and changing tabs, staring at the box didn’t make things appear any faster. Neither did the intense wishing he was currently participating in.

He just needed to relax and allow Stiles time to reply. He took a deep breath and changed to his work, beginning to enter in grades into the worksheet, needing something to keep his mind busy, and he didn’t want to leave the computer, in case Stiles replied anytime soon. 

It was an hour later, and twenty-three games of spider solitaire later that his computer let him know he had a new message. He clicked to his quickly, relief flooding through him, followed by a sharp spike of anxiety, as he realized it was from Stiles. He looked at the red one, his mind automatically going to all of the bad things that could happen right then. Stiles could never want to talk to him again, think he was a raging lunatic, or worse, a creep of the most epic proportions. Stiles could think he was akin to the naked guy down on fifth who spoke about horses chasing him and men wanting to take him back to their home planet. So many bad things could happen, he found his hands were shaking as he went to click the button, already anticipating the worst in the world.

> _D,_
> 
> _It’s all good, I know that feeling all to well. Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll tell you about my graduation party, we can bond over bad decision making while on alcohol. Is your head hurting as much as mind did after the fact? Healing factor is good but I had drunk enough that even that didn’t help for a few hours, it was the worst few hours of my life, and that includes the entirety of freshman year of high school._
> 
> _Saying also a a lot isn’t the worst thing in the world, there is also a lot of other things you could be saying that are also worse. Like you could also say bitch or something, or also have a weird voice._
> 
> _Look, now we’re on the same page._
> 
> _Also, how has the past two weeks been for you?_
> 
> _\- Stiles_

Derek felt himself begin to relax, the first smile of the day tugged at his lips, growing as he read, and reread, the message he had gotten. The tension in his shoulders relaxed a little bit and he let out a soft sigh, leaning back against the couch. For the first time in a long time he felt like he hadn’t fucked up, not even close. He felt nothing but relief. He felt _relief_ and it was something new. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he dropped his head down. His hands linked behind his neck and his shoulders slumped, letting out the shuddering breath he didn’t realize he had been holding for the past two weeks.

This was real, Stiles didn’t think he was some creeper and it hadn’t been a mistake on either of their parts. This was _real_ , as real as any romance ever was, and whoever this Stiles was, whatever his life story was about, so far he wasn’t put off. He hadn’t been run off by his harsh face, acerbic personality and continuous bad decisions. This had the possibility of working, and Derek felt a small fluttering of hope settle in his belly. It was an emotion he had given up romantically a long time ago. 

He looked up, looking at the blinking cursor in the message box and reached out beginning to type out the reply.

> _Stiles,_
> 
> _Thank you. Just, thank you. For not running screaming for the hills or something._
> 
> _\- Derek_

Derek looked at the simple message before reaching out again.

> _So, what have you been up too? What do you do actually, on a regular basis. I know your first and last name, and that’s it really. I want to know more about you._

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://hero-in-waiting.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
